Beyond My Hopes
by Kayley Laskitt
Summary: Misty's never been one for drama. And she thought that after Ash, all of that was going to be over. But she's fallen for a guy who's so wrong and so right. And now the REAL drama is just about to begin. EGOSHIPPY.
1. Avoid The Lightning

- Beyond My Hopes -  
  
A Pokemon Fanfiction by Kayley Laskitt (savetheempire@optusnet.com.au)  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon. I understand this comes as quite a shock as I am not in the entertainment industry, not residing in Japan and haven't even finished high school yet.   
Author's Notes: This is not my first fanfic, though it is the first Pokemon fanfic I've posted. I don't take well to flames, and I don't want to hear any bitching from anyone who isn't an egoshipper. Both the summary and this note warns you. If you don't like it, don't read it.   
In this fanfic, you should probably pretend that Pallet is not a nowheresville town. The characters are also older, though that should be fairly obvious.  
Comments and constructive criticism welcome.  
  
**  
Chapter One: Avoid The Lightning  
  
Paranoia runs in my family. My father left us five days before my sixth birthday for a prime room at the Indigo Mercy Hospital Psych Ward because he was paranoid delusional. And before he'd left, my family had always said that I was just like my father. "Look at little Misty," they would say. "There's so much Anthony in her."  
Given the history of paranoia in my family, I know that I am being very, very paranoid right now. Just because I'm sitting at a table for two by myself doesn't mean everyone in Pallet is staring at me.  
"Well, well. If it isn't Popularity Barbie and all her friends."  
There's only one guy in the entire world who calls me Barbie, one guy who manages to make me seething mad just with the level of condescension in his voice and one guy who would actually have the audacity to go out of his way to say something like that to me.  
I make sure I don't look pissed off when I raise my head. Sure enough, there he is, looking so smug I would love to whack him across the face. I would do it too, if all those people weren't watching. "That is so clever," I say. "I swear, you get smarter the bigger your head gets."  
Swish. And she shoots, she scores.   
Gary, to his credit, doesn't look taken aback for more than a second. "And you get smarter the bigger your mouth gets," he replies.  
If I didn't know any better, I would swear he's been digging up the dirt on me to better his insults. My sisters always used to tell me I had a big mouth.   
Whether that is true or not is hardly the point.  
I lean back in my chair and sigh wearily. "Are you here for the sole purpose of tormenting me?" I demand, straight to the point.  
Gary sticks his hands into the pockets of his jeans, which are bordering on being obnoxiously big. What is he planning to do, house a family of five in them? "Actually, I wanted to see if you wanted some company," he informs me.  
I ponder this statement thoughtfully, tapping my chin. "Hmm . . . " I begin. "It was a good line, but it lacked emotion. I'll give you an 8.9."  
This time Gary is taken aback for more than a second. But instead of turning and walking away like I thought, he smiles. "I'm serious."  
He's serious? Come on, get real. I eye him doubtfully. "Why?"  
He lifts his broad shoulders in what is supposed to be a slight shrug. Guess he's too cool to lift them all the way or something. "Because I was here with May, but we got into a fight and she went home to go whine to my grandfather. And I saw you, and you looked bored and I know that I'm bored so I thought maybe we could be bored together."  
I don't know Gary all that well, but I have a talent for being able to tell when people are lying, and I'm fairly certain Gary isn't.   
I sigh. "Okay. Sit down."  
He pulls out the chair opposite me and sits, each movement liquid and deliberate. He possesses a strange kind of grace. He reminds me of Brock's sister, Tamara, who's at the Indigo College of the Arts for ballet and jazz.   
"So, that was easier than I anticipated," he says, casually resting his forearms on the table.  
I shrug, trying to mimic his to-cool-to-shrug-normally thing. "People were starting to stare," I respond, stirring my ice tea so the ice cubes hit the glass melodically.   
Gary lifts an eyebrow ever so slightly. "You don't strike me as the kind of girl who cares if people stare or not."  
"I'm not," I admit, kind of surprised that Gary was able to pick that up. "I couldn't care less, to be honest." I pause reflectively. "Ash kind of has a problem with that."  
Gary opens his mouth like he's about to say something, then closes it on second thought. I guess he was going to say something less than flattering about Ash. "So what's going on with you and Ash?" he asks, trying to sound as though he isn't curious even though I can tell he is.   
I rest my elbows on the table, cradling my chin in my hands. It's so against the table etiquette drummed into me as a kid, but I'm in a coffeehouse, not a restaurant. "We broke up," I say simply.  
Gary nods, then picks up a packet of sugar, shaking it from side to side. "Yeah, I heard that. Pallet grapevine," he adds, as an explanation. "Why?"  
God, the guy doesn't give up, does he? Seriously, though, we've spoken like three times in the entire time we've known each other and he thinks he can ask me questions like that and expect me to actually answer them?  
"We got into a fight," I explain. "I told him I wasn't going to come second to an electric yellow rodent, he told me to get over it, I told him to go to Kentucky because they might let him marry Pikachu over there, he called me a skank . . . the sparks really flew."  
Gary whistles, and sinks back in his chair. "That bad, huh?"  
I blink. "Oh, no, I actually mean that about the sparks. Pikachu got really pissed off."  
Gary stares at me blankly for a brief second before chuckling.   
I grin. "Anyway," I continue. "We calmed down and talked it over. Realised the dating thing wasn't working. And then we decided to still be friends." I sigh quietly at that statement, and brush some sugar off the table.  
Gary eyes me sympathetically. "Easier said than done?"  
I nod, relieved that he knows exactly what I mean. "Yeah, it's hard. There's still a lot of tension, a lot of resentment, you know what I mean?" I push my long hair back off my shoulders before going on. "We came here tonight, but we got into an argument. That's why I was alone."  
Gary nods slowly, thoughtfully. "Sounds like you guys need some space."  
Could it be? Gary Oak offering sarcasm-free words of wisdom?  
I smile ironically at his advice. "Yeah, that's gonna happen. The thing where I live next door to him shouldn't get in the way of that at all."  
Gary's smooth forehead furrows with confusion; he tilts his head slightly. "I thought that the Baker's lived next door."  
Again I smile, less amused this time. "They do. I mean next door as in down the hall."  
Gary gapes at me. "You mean you're still living at the Ketchum's?"  
I nod miserably; Gary slaps the table surface and chuckles. "Christ, Misty," he manages between laughter. "You sure don't make things easy for yourself, do you?"  
I let out a wordless wail and put my head on the table. I can feel little granules of sugar sticking into my forehead. "What else am I supposed to do?" I ask, turning my head so I can look up at Gary.  
Gary grins, looking way too amused at the fact that my life is crumbling all around me. "I don't know what to do for your current living situation," he begins, laughing a little. "But I do know what you need right now. You need me to shout you an obscenely large ice-cream."  
I sit up, brush the sugar from my face and smile a lopsided smile. "Well, if you're offering . . . " I start, pushing back my chair slightly.   
Gary stands and offers me his hand. "Let's go."  
  
I'm nineteen years old. Can you believe that? Nineteen. And in those nineteen years, I've done many, many things.   
Pursuing a girl is not one of them.  
I'm hardly sheltered. I've pretty much been there and done that in all respects. It's just that I've never needed to pursue a girl. They all just come to me.   
It's the Oak curse. May has the same problem. With guys, I mean. Okay, and that one girl that one time. But that's beside the point.  
But Misty . . . well, she's different. Christ, I sound like a fricking Hallmark card, but she is. Ever since we went to the Ketchum's for Christmas and Misty told me to go to the mall and attempt to buy a life, I've wanted her. She's so unafraid of everything. I love the way she tells it like it is and doesn't give a damn about the repercussions.   
The fact that she's absolutely stunning doesn't hurt, either.  
My car is parked right outside the coffeehouse, and I hit the unlock button on my key. I open the passenger side door and gesture for Misty to get in.  
She throws me a wide-eyed, quizzical look. "Why are we getting in your car?" she asks, running her finger over the paint and trying to look as though she isn't completely smitten by my baby.   
I grin enigmatically, resting an arm on the open door. "I told you. To get ice-cream."  
Misty frowns, looking thoughtful. "But there's a place just on the next block . . . "  
Gently, I usher her into the car, my hand in the small of her back. She looks up at me from the seat, looking perplexed. I brace my arm on the roof of the car and bend down to look at her. "I think right now you don't just need ice-cream. You need the best ice-cream there is." Leaving it off at that, I shut her door and walk around to the other side of the car and get in. I start the ignition, and my baby purrs like a kitten. I pat the dashboard.   
Misty is looking at me, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "So what does that mean?"  
"It means," I say, looking behind me and backing out of the space. "That I remember you telling Ash that this place down on Cerulean Beach has the best ice-cream around."  
A yellow Lexus lets me in; I offer a wave of recognition and pull out into the traffic.   
"Wait a second," Misty says, holding her hands up. "You're not driving all the way to Cerulean Beach for ice-cream."  
I throw her a brazen grin and flick my left blinker on. "Why not?"  
For what I am sure is the first time in her life, Misty is speechless. It takes her the entire time it takes to get from Main Street to the freeway before she recovers.   
"You're insane," she tells me.  
I laugh. "Sometimes." I lean over and flick on the stereo. "Driving music," I explain, hitting the CD button and trying to recall what I'd left in there last. Nothing embarrassing, I hope.  
A You Am I track starts pounding through the speakers, and Misty looks mildly surprised. "You like You Am I?" she asks, not bothering to conceal her surprise.  
Points to her for recognizing the track that fast. "Yeah, I like You Am I," I respond casually. "Why? What did you think I liked?"  
She shrugs, looks a little embarrassed. "I don't know. Dance party USA, teenybopper kind of stuff." She throws me a sideways look, like she's trying to gauge whether she's offended me or not. From the look on her face, she's kind of hoping she has.  
She loves messing with me, this girl.  
I let it slide, just to piss her off. "Funny. That's what I kind of thought of you."  
"You're kidding me," she says, eyebrow quirked.  
I overtake a jellybean car. "Hey, Barbie music for a Barbie girl," I say, as if it makes perfect sense.  
"Barbie girl," she mutters under her breath, clearly not impressed. "What is up with that nickname anyway?"  
I laugh, amused by her annoyance. "Come on. You're always so perfectly dressed and made up, in your little skirts and your little heels and your little purses that can't possibly hold enough to be of any use. Besides," I say, with a smirk. "I've met your sisters. You four are like a Barbie patrol."  
"My skirts are not little," she protests, smoothing the fabric of her gray skirt over her thighs. "And I don't dress like this all the time. Most of the time at home, I wear jeans and stuff." She pauses. "Though your assessment on my sisters is on the mark."  
I laugh, but the fact that she refers to Ash's place as 'home' doesn't escape me. Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I glance at her. "So how's Delia handling her son's ex-girlfriend living in her house?" I ask nonchalantly.   
Misty crosses her legs, suddenly looking all self-conscious over her skirt. "She's been great," she says. "Really, I love Delia. I was thinking of marrying Ash so I could just score Delia as a mother in law," she continues with a musical laugh.   
"Yeah, she's pretty great," I agree.   
Misty pulls her long hair over her shoulders. "Well, you kind of have to say that, don't you?" she states bluntly. "I mean, she's probably going to end up as your, like, grandmother soon."  
"Oh, hell," I mutter, speeding up a little. "Don't you start," I add, recalling the way May has been going on and on about my grandfather and Ash's mom and how she thinks a spring wedding would be really pretty and four bridesmaids in different colors to represent the seasons would be just so beautiful.  
Misty angles her head, allowing a lock of red-gold hair to fall across her forehead. "You not happy about that?"  
Well, she gets straight to the point, you can say that for her.  
"It's not like I'm not happy about my grandfather finding someone," I say, choosing my words carefully. "But for God's sake, Delia? Ash's mom? And hello, are we forgetting the age difference?"  
I can see Misty unconsciously tapping her fingers against her leg to the beat of the song. It's kind of distracting. "Twenty years," she says with a shrug.  
I snort. "Twenty years. Right. Remind me to tell my grandfather you think he's that young. He'll be thrilled."  
Misty twists in her seat to look at me, her perfectly shaped eyebrows drawing together slightly. "I know how old the Professor is. He's 57. I was at his last birthday, remember?"  
Yeah, I do remember. I remember she wore that really pretty dress, shimmery pale green. I remember the way Ash and Misty had been so sickening I'd sat outside with May and polished off a whole bottle of Scotch with her. One thing I can say for my sister - she can hold her liquor with the best of them. Hell, she could probably drink me right under the table.  
"So, okay. How old do you think Delia is?" I ask Misty, not forgetting that the math isn't quite working over here.  
Misty's frowning, her brow all furrowed. It's cute. "She's 37," she says, and I can't help laughing.   
"37," I echo, trying to keep a straight face. "Right."  
"She is!" Misty insists indignantly. "She told me so herself!"  
I pat Misty's knee condescendingly. "Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, Misty, but she lied to you."  
Misty looks like she'd love to stick her tongue out at me. "Oh, wise one," she says, equally sarcastic. "Enlighten me. How old is Delia?"  
"She's 32," I say bluntly. No point in beating around the bush, I suppose. I spy a road sign up ahead; if memory serves, it should be the Cerulean exit.  
"32!" Misty exclaims. "But that means she would have been like . . . sixteen when she had Ash!"  
I put my left blinker on as we approach the Cerulean exit. "Why do you think she lied?" I ask rhetorically. "Pallet's a small town, you know. It loves a scandal."  
Misty falls silent and she slumps in her chair, like she can't believe Delia would lie to her. I feel a small twinge of regret for telling Misty so tactlessly.   
We drive silently for a few seconds, but Misty sits up suddenly, eyes wide. "Oh, wow!" she cries, looking out her window. "I can't believe we're here already!"  
I look out the window. As far as I can tell, we're not anywhere.  
"Pull over," she instructs. I do. She unbuckles her seat belt and turns to face me, a very cute, very cryptic smile on her face. "You want to see where history was made?" I nod. She throws open her door. "Well, let's go."  
  
I can tell Gary is apprehensive as I drag him through sections of the woods that border Cerulean City. He doesn't have to be - I know these woods like I know the back of my hand, but I don't share that with Gary. Let him wonder.  
"So where are we going?" Gary asks, trudging through the scrub, sounding downright miserable. I guess he's not an outdoors kind of guy.   
"I told you," I say, handling the walk through the woods better than Gary, which is kind of funny when you consider the fact that he's wearing sneakers and I'm wearing kitten heels. "A place where history was made."  
"Great," Gary mutters, tripping slightly. "What is it, the home of Cerulean City's oldest living Lutheran or something?"  
I laugh merrily, and jump over a log. "You're such a geek."  
Gary follows suit, jumping over the log. He lands lightly, effortlessly. There's that grace again.  
"Did you ever take ballet lessons by any chance?" I ask, curiously.  
He blinks. He stares. He scratches at the back of his head. "What?"  
I wave a dismissive hand. "Never mind." I grab his wrist and pull him through a small section of trees. I can hear the gentle rush of water and I smile. We make it out of the cluster of trees to a small clearing bordering a river.  
Gary brushes a dry leaf off of his sweater and eyes the river doubtfully. "What, did your ancestors sail in here and proclaim to start a gym slash synchronized swimming extravaganza?"  
I roll my eyes and ignore the slightly veiled insult. "No." I spread my arms grandly. "This is where I first met Ash."  
Gary's expression of a guy indulging someone's whim turns to one of undisguised interest. He takes in our surroundings, the trees, the water, the serenity. It's beautiful here.  
"Wow," he says finally. "How . . . remote."  
I smirk, but he doesn't see it. He's so not an outdoorsy kind of guy. He's so not Ash, who always looks like he's ready to scale a mountain.  
Gary walks forward a little, leans forward to peer at the water that's bubbling by. "So, how'd he end up out here anyway?" he asks, squatting to run a hand through the water. "Was he lost?"  
I smile at the memory and walk to stand beside Gary. I look out at the water. It's kind of strange how this place hasn't changed at all in six years. "Uh, kind of," I respond. "I fished him and Pikachu out of the river if that counts."  
Gary looks surprised. He stands up, brushes his hands on his pants and grins. "So what happened next? Did he thank you profusely and vow to repay you? Was it like some love at first sight thing?"  
Gary looks so earnest, not a trace of his usual sarcasm that I laugh. "Hell no," I say, shifting my weight slightly. "He stole my bike, trashed it and I stalked him to get him to buy me a new one." I grin. "I could have smacked his face in for that."  
Gary folds his arms over his gray sweater that looks almost black in this light. "So then what? Did he give you a new bike with his heart on the handlebars?"  
I eye him oddly. "You have some pretty screwed up ideas about mine and Ash's history."  
Gary lifts his shoulders and attempts to laugh it off. "Hey, what can I say?"  
I angle my head, not taking my eyes off his. "I don't know - what can you say?"  
He looks as though he's considering trying to crack a joke, but sighs instead. "I've thought a lot about it. Overactive imagination."  
I move closer, just slightly. "Why?"  
Gary sighs, lets his head fall back so he has a clear view of the sky. "Promise you won't laugh?" His head falls back down so he can see my reaction.  
The corners of my mouth twitch upwards slightly. "I'm not gonna promise anything."  
Gary sighs, and I can tell he's going to tell me regardless. "Look, I was just always . . . I don't know, a little envious of Ash."  
I'm tempted to laugh or fall over but I do neither. I lay a hand on his arm, an action that feels strangely easy considering I don't really know the guy. "Why?"  
He exhales, but it's a little shaky, as though he doesn't particularly enjoying reliving this. "Because he had you," he says with a sigh.  
I feel a blush creep up my cheeks, which I choose to ignore.   
"Come on, Gary," I say nudging him slightly. "You had at least half a dozen rah-rah girls hanging off your arm every second."  
Gary snorts derisively at that. "Yeah. Right. Talking to them - it's like talking to celery, except at least celery know how to photosynthesize, so they're kind of interesting." He forces a smile. "I never had a Misty. I never had a real friend. Ash did, and I was jealous."  
I tug at the collar of my shirt with my free hand, unsure how to respond. "I know this isn't what you want to hear but that surprises me . . . you're so popular."  
Gary gives me a look then that throws me off. It's hard to interpret, but it's almost like he's disappointed. I'm not sure what it means.   
"Being popular and having real friends are two completely different things," he tells me, his voice quiet, hollow. "When you're popular, you can be in a whole room of people you call your friends and feel completely alone."  
His jaw sets then, and I almost feel the wall going up. I wonder if he regrets even letting me know that much.  
"You know," I begin, unsure as to what I can and can't say. "You just came dangerously close to opening up."  
Gary chuckles dryly. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it." I allow a small smile, and he grabs my hand. "So, come on. We better get going if we want to catch this ice-cream place in time."  
His hand is warm, and fits so well in mine that I don't pull away. Besides, I get the feeling his grabbing my hand has less to do with getting back to the car and more to do with a level of comfort.  
I squeeze his hand and throw him a smile. "Ready to battle the savage wilderness once again?" I ask with a smirk.  
Gary flexes his free arm. "Bring it on."  
I laugh and tug at his hand. "Alright, Tarzan. Let's go."  
  
Good work, Gary. Really smart.  
What was that vow I'd made years ago? It had something to do with not telling people my life story when I hardly even know them.  
See what happens when you let your hormones run your life?  
She reacted better than I thought. She didn't mutter anything about 'poor little rich boys' and she didn't offer to play me the world's saddest song on the world's smallest violin. I know she didn't understand entirely but she tried to. I like that.   
She's quiet now, looking out the window. I'm not sure if she's thinking about what I said or if she's just feeling nostalgic because she's back home.  
I turn left down a street with a sign that points towards Cerulean Beach and glance at Misty. "You'll have to direct me where to go," I tell her. "I don't know my way around Cerulean all that well."  
It doesn't take long to get to this famous ice-cream place. I park, we get out of the car, and I look at the shack-like building Misty's dragging me towards. The big plastic sign informing pretty much anyone within twenty miles that this is the Ice-Cream Empire is glowing.  
Misty looks at me and laughs. "Don't worry. It just looks hokey."  
"Got that right," I mutter.  
Misty laughs again, grabs both my sleeves and tows me into the store. Bells chime as she pushes open the glass door, and the guy in the polka-dot apron and paper hat at the counter turns to see, and his entire face lights up.   
Slow night for business maybe?  
That theory flies out the window when the guy crawls over the counter, grinning a mile a minute. "Misty!" he cries, landing on our side of the counter.  
Misty drops my sleeves and runs over to the guy. "Joe!"  
"Misty!" Joe responds, looking way too excited. He grabs her up in a hug and swings her around.   
I feel a twinge of possessiveness - irrational possessiveness. I force a smile, but it feels so artificial that I drop it and opt for a look of casual of indifference.  
Joe sets Misty down and the two engage in some bizarre hand slapping routine. She's so unaffected and natural with this guy. I wonder if she'll ever be like that with me.  
Another guy in identical apron and hat sticks his head around the corner, frowning. "What's all the racket for?" he asks.   
Joe turns to Guy Number 2 and gestures to Misty excitedly. "Man, it's Misty!"   
"Oh, wow! It's Misty!" Guy Number 2 enthuses and runs around the counter to greet Misty.   
"Yeah!" Joe enthuses, grabbing Misty's hands and dancing with her a little. "Misty's here!"  
Right. And she called me popular.  
After a few minutes of hugging and hand slapping and really fast talking, Misty seems to remember that I'm here. She drags the two guys over to me. "Sorry," she apologizes. "I'm lame with introductions." She gestures to each polka-dotted guy in turn. "This is Joe, and this is Lucas." She turns to look at Joe and Lucas. "Guys, this is my friend Gary."  
We exchange nods of greeting, but I can tell we're all wondering who stands where with Misty.   
"Joe and Lucas used to live down the street from me," she explains, standing on her toes and crooking an arm around each of their necks. "They're like the big brothers I never had."  
She looks at me meaningfully as she says that, and I feel myself turn red. Am I that transparent?  
"I saw Daisy today," Joe manages to say despite being practically strangled by Misty. "She never mentioned you're in town."  
Misty grins broadly and lets go of her hostages. "That's because I'm not."  
Lucas rolls his eyes. "Right. You're not here. You're an illusion."  
Misty shoves him and he laughs. "Hey, guys, I'm just here for the ice-cream." Joe and Lucas laugh; Misty looks at them. "No, I mean that," she insists. "Gary's heard me raving about this place, and he decided to check it out."  
Lucas tips his paper hat with mock seriousness. "Well, then, little lady, I guess we better show you that we are men of business."  
Fifteen minutes later, Misty and I emerge from the Ice-Cream Empire, holding ridiculously large cones that were on the house.   
"Nice guys," I comment, taking a lick of mocha-almond-fudge.  
"The best," Misty agrees, catching a drip of cherry-chocolate-swirl with her tongue. "Like, I said, the big brothers I never had." She shoots me a sideways glance.  
"Glad to hear it," I say non-commitally, unlocking my car and waiting for Misty to get in so I can close her door. I see what she's doing. I'm not going to take the bait.  
A bit of ice-cream juggling later, we head off back to Pallet Town. There's a definite twinge of regret as we get onto the freeway. The closer we are to Pallet, the sooner I have to take Misty home.  
Holding her ice-cream in one hand, she starts flicking through my CD's distractedly. You Am I. Something For Kate. Powderfinger. A couple of compilations. Nothing incriminating.   
Misty picks up a compilation CD and scans the track listing. "Oh, wow!" she cries suddenly. "We have to listen to this song!"  
She takes out the You Am I CD and sticks in the one in her hand. She skips forward a couple of tracks then sits back expectantly. A second later, a fast drum riff belts out of the speakers.   
"I love this song," she explains as she drums along on her thighs.   
Now, I realise that there are probably hundreds of people who love this song. That's how it got on a CD, right? But the fact that Misty loves a song that is one of my favorite songs has got to mean something, right?  
"Yeah?" I say, reaching over to turn it up. "So do I."  
Misty throws me an appreciative grin, then turns her attention back to the music. "Fingertips have memories, mine can't forget the curves of your body," she sings along, quietly.  
I glance at her. "And when I feel a bit a naughty, I run it up the flagpole and see who salutes but no one ever does," I continue, eyeing her.   
Misty meets me eyes and shakes back her hair, laughing. "I'm not sick, but I'm not well!" she sings, louder this time.  
"And I'm so hot, 'cause I'm in hell! I'm not sick, but I'm not well, and it's a sin to look so well!" we both sing loudly. I'm slightly off-key, but Misty's perfectly pitched. It's not the best song to gauge singing ability but I'm pretty sure the girl can carry a tune.  
The music is loud, we're both singing and Misty's playing air-drums, and it's more fun than I can ever remember having. I'm disappointed when the song finishes.  
A more mellow song follows up, and Misty brushes an errant lock of hair out of her face.   
"I think you just proved your worth, Misty," I comment lightly.   
She twists in her seat slightly and lifts an eyebrow, one side of her mouth curved upwards slightly. "You're easy to please." She smirks. "I like that."  
I feel myself go red slightly and I'm glad it's dark so that she probably can't see. "Well, it's just one of many qualities," I manage. I'm still reeling from Misty's comment - is it possible that she's flirting with me?  
Misty flips her long hair the way May always does when she's in full-flirt mode. "I can't wait to find the rest."  
Oh, come on. She's got to be flirting.   
We get to Ash's way too fast. I park out the front and shrug slightly. "Well, this is your stop," I say, keeping my voice light.  
Misty sighs. "Yep. Guess I better go inside and smooth things over with Ash, huh?"  
I swallow, and clear my throat for no other reason than to stall for time. "So, uh, you're not gonna go fall in love with him again, are you?"  
Misty blinks her huge, aqua eyes at me, clearly confused. She laughs a little. "No. Why?"  
Here we go. The big plunge. Time to jump into the deep end. Time to put myself on the line. Time to put my heart on my sleeve.  
Time to stop with the cheesy similes. Christ, I sound like a jackass.  
"Because I was planning to ask you out for tomorrow night, and that would really put a damper on my plans," I say solemnly.  
Her cheeks redden adorably and she laughs. But she stops there, leaving me feeling way too anxious.  
"So?" I press.  
Misty lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug, and a small smile touches her lips. "You didn't ask me out yet," she says, sounding amused.  
I angle my head. "I thought I just did."  
"Oh, no," Misty corrects me, holding up a hand. "You told me you were going to ask me out. You haven't actually done it yet."  
She's smirking. Sadist. See, this is what I get for falling for girls like Misty.  
I sigh and unbuckle my seatbelt so I can turn to face her. "So, Misty," I begin, acting as if she has no inkling that I'm going to ask her out. "We had some good times tonight. I had fun. I like having fun. I was hoping we could have some more fun tomorrow night. If you're free."  
I can see she's holding back a laugh. "I'd love to."  
I can't stop the full-blown grin that crosses my face. "Pick you up at seven?" I ask, grinning like a fool. I must look like I have a coathanger in my mouth.  
She nods. "Sure." She places her hand on the door handle, but doesn't pull the door open. "So, you gotta go make up with May now, huh?"  
I groan and run a hand through my hair. "Please, don't remind me."  
She smirks that little torment-Gary smirk again. "That going to be a problem?"  
I shrug. "Nah, not really. If she doesn't forgive me on the spot, I'll just go buy her a new sweater tomorrow or something."  
Misty laughs, then shakes her head. "Man, I wish Ash were that easy to get around." She pulls the door handle up and pushes the door open. She slides out of the car, but doesn't close the door.  
Again, I shrug and offer her a smirk of my own. "Hey, everyone has something someone else wants. Ash is a lot of things, but he's a guy before anything else. You want him to forgive you? Just offer him s-"  
Misty bends down to look through at me. She smiles and cuts me off. "Good night, Gary."  
I blink innocently. "I was going to say steak."  
Misty rolls her eyes playfully, smiles then shuts the door.  
I watch her walk up the path to the front door, wondering if she'll wave or do something that's incredibly geeky that I can tease her about tomorrow. She doesn't, but I do catch her looking back once. She doesn't smile, she doesn't wave, she just looks.  
And I make sure I capture that look in my mind before I drive off.  
  



	2. Starbeams In The Night

- Beyond My Hopes-  
  
A Pokemon Fanfiction by Kayley Laskitt (savetheempire@optusnet.com.au)  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon. I understand this comes as quite a shock as I am not in the entertainment industry, not residing in Japan and haven't even finished high school yet.   
Author's Notes: This is not my first fanfic, though it is the first Pokemon fanfic I've posted. I don't take well to flames, and I don't want to hear any bitching from anyone who isn't an egoshipper. Both the summary and this note warns you. If you don't like it, don't read it.   
In this fanfic, you should probably pretend that Pallet is not a nowheresville town. The characters are also older, though that should be fairly obvious.  
Comments and constructive criticism welcome.  
  
**  
Chapter Two: Starbeams In The Night  
  
I watch Gary drive off, an inexplicable smile on my lips. I put my key into the door and I'm just about to turn it when the door swings open. I jump back, hand over my heart.  
"God, Mrs. Ketchum!" I gasp, trying to stop the slight adrenaline rush pulsing through my veins. "You scared the hell out of me!"  
"Sorry, Misty," she apologizes, stepping aside so I can come in. "I just heard you outside and thought I'd save you the trouble of unlocking the door." She closes the door behinds me, and glances at the silver watch around her slender wrist. "You're home late," she comments, not as a criticism.  
I don't bother looking at my watch to verify that - you don't drive to Cerulean City and back again and not get home a little late. "Yeah," I agree. "I hope you weren't waiting up or anything."  
"Oh, no," she assures me, waving a dismissive hand. "It's just that Ash came home quite awhile ago - I was curious as to where you were."  
I wince slightly, and Delia doesn't miss it. She smiles knowingly.  
"The let's-stay-friends thing didn't quite go to plan?" she asks, not really as a question. She knows the answer as well as I do.  
I smile ironically. "I guess we need to work on that." I glance at the stairs. "Is Ash still up? I kind of need to talk to him."  
Delia moves into the kitchen, and I follow her. "I think I heard him fall over before, so I'm pretty sure he's still awake," she says.   
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. It's kind of comforting to know some things - like Ash's perpetual clumsiness - never change.  
Delia pours hot water from a kettle that's clearly just boiled into a blue mug. "Do you want a drink?" she offers. I shake my head, and Delia stirs her own drink. "So what did you do for the rest of the night?" she asks casually.  
"Just hung out," I respond, equally casual.  
Delia turns to face me. "With Gary?" she asks, straight-to-the-point, still maintaining that casualness. I gape at her, and she smiles a little. "Well, that was his car outside, wasn't it?"  
I lean back against the wall, and shake my head, equal parts amused and impressed. "You don't miss a trick, do you?"  
Delia laughs. "Not if I can help it!" Her laughter dies and she eyes me. "That's what you want to talk to Ash about, isn't it?"  
No point in denying, I suppose.   
"Amongst other things." Delia looks doubtful, and I sigh. "Gary asked me out for tomorrow night, and I said yes." I wait for a gasp, or a sign that's she's passing judgement, but she merely nods. I cock my head, and lift an eyebrow. "How do you think Ash'll take it?"  
Delia smiles enigmatically, picks up her mug and pats my shoulder. "Good luck." She disappears at that, towards her bedroom and I run my hand through my hair.   
Time to face the music, I guess.   
I trudge upstairs and knock lightly on Ash's bedroom door. I push it open and poke my head through the doorway. Ash is sitting on his bed, watching TV. Or pretending to while channel-surfing aimlessly. Whatever. He looks like he's got something serious going on that head of his for once.  
"Hey," I say quietly.  
Ash looks at me, and mutes the TV. "Hey," he responds.   
I push the door open fully and cross the carpet to his desk chair. I sit down and turn the chair so I can face Ash. "Guess that let's-be-friends thing didn't work too well, huh?" I ask, keeping my voice free of any negativity.  
Ash cracks a grin. "Looks that way."  
I roll a hair tie off my wrist and pull my hair into a messy ponytail. "To be honest, I hardly even remember what we were fighting about," I tell him seriously. "But I know whatever it was, it had to be two-sided. So I'm sorry for anything I said."  
Ash nods, takes this in. "Yeah. Me too."  
I smile softly and lean back in the chair. "So, what? Fresh start number two?"  
Ash chuckles and looks down at his lap, tracing abstract patterns on the leg of his jeans. "We'll get it right eventually, I guess."  
We fall silent and remain that way for a couple of seconds.   
"I need to talk to you," I blurt out at the exact same time Ash says, with forced lightness, "Guess who I ran into?"  
We laugh awkwardly. "You go first," I offer, procrastinating like crazy.  
Ash shrugs. "Oh, I was just going to say I ran into May - you know, Gary's sister?" I nod, and he continues. "Yeah, she was out with Gary and they got into a fight." He laughs. "Must be the night for it, huh? Anyway, I hung out with her for awhile. She was telling me about the fight she and Gary had." Ash shook his head. "God, he's such a jerk to her sometimes, you know?"  
I grip the edge of my chair and smile weakly. "Ash, I've got to ask," I begin, trying to sound casual. "Do you think there's a chance you and Gary could ever be friends again?"  
Ash ponders this question. "There's a chance." My heart soars. He grins. "It's slim to none, but there's a chance."  
Shattered.  
"So what did you have to tell me?" he asks.  
I stand up and back towards the door. "You know, I completely forgot," I babble, walking backwards which was never my talent. "And look how late it is. I better get to bed."  
I practically bolt out of there and don't stop till I'm in my room, the door closed.  
Stupid, Misty. Really universally stupid.  
I should have told Ash then. I should have. Because regardless of when he finds out - and I'm sure he will - he's going to be mad I didn't tell him from day one and there'll be a whole mistrust thing. It's not like I can run in there now and act is if I just remembered.   
Looks like fresh start number three will be in the works before long.  
"Stupid, Misty," I mutter, flopping stomach down onto my bed. "Really stupid."  
  
I check my watch. 7:01. Do you think I'm possibly a little early to achieve that fashionably late thing I usually strive for.  
It's not an eagerness complex. I swear.  
I raise my arm to knock on the Ketchum's door and it's flung open before I even make contact. Misty slips through the door, grabs my arm and drags me to the car.  
She looks beautiful, in a calf-length silvery-blue sundress and black sandals, a black cardigan draped over her shoulders. But I get the feeling the pink hue to her cheeks has nothing to do with a meticulous make-up job.   
"Nice to see you, too, Misty," I say, trying to resist her whirlwind pull. For such a slender, delicate thing, she sure has a Schwarzennegar grip.   
"Right back at ya," she says unceremoniously, succeeding in dragging me down the driveway and out to the street.   
I plant my feet firmly on the stubby grass on the nature strip and she stops and turns to look at me. I smirk. "You didn't tell Ash, did you?"  
She picks her way across the grass to my car, clearly stalling. "Tell is such a subjective term," she hedges, angling her head in an attempt to look thoughtful. "I mean . . . " She stops suddenly and sighs. "No. No, I didn't."  
I unlock the car and open the passenger door for Misty, who slides in. I don't close the door, and instead stand there and stare at her.  
"What?" she asks, sounding irritated.  
I heave a woeful sigh and walk around the car. I get in, and cast Misty another look.  
"Don't look at me like that," she snaps, slumping in her seat. "It was a lot harder than it sounded."  
I start the ignition and pull onto the road. "How do you know?" I ask reasonably. "You didn't actually do it." Before she can let loose at me, as I'm sure she will, I continue. "Look, Misty, I'd really like you to tell Ash. No, I really want you to tell him," I say calmly as we turn out of Ash's street.  
I catch her making a face out of the corner of my eye, which is kind of amusing. It's so strange to see this beautiful, graceful girl making faces at me like a spoiled six-year-old.  
"Why?" she questions. "So you can watch him disown me for life?"  
I shake my head almost imperceptibly and turn right. "No," I say, pausing to make sure I have her full attention. "Because Ash is important to you. And I don't think I can be important to you if you don't tell him."  
I turn my head just in time to see all sarcasm drain from her face. For a moment, that mask she always wears falls, and I glimpse pure, unshielded Misty.   
"I wanted to tell him," she tells me quietly, playing with the silver bracelet that circles her slender wrist. I remember Brock giving it to her on her birthday.   
She reminds of the way May gets when she turns on the manipulation mode - all remorseful and puppy-eyed. Only with Misty it's real.   
I come to a stop at a red light behind a four-wheel drive and take the opportunity to look at Misty. She's still looking down, which doesn't make it easy. I reach out and gently lift her chin, forcing her to look up. "So why didn't you?"  
She laughs mirthlessly and smoothes an imaginary wrinkle from the skirt of her dress. "He'd just gotten done with telling me there's a slim to none chance of him ever being friends with you again," she says. "It didn't strike me as the best time."  
The way she's keeping her voice tone-free tells me that she hates this. That the fact that Ash and I don't get along really tears into her.   
The four-wheel drive ahead of me moves forward, and I follow, interrupting a chance to probe Misty any further about her feelings.   
"I understand that's hard," I say carefully, diplomatically. "And I do want you to tell him. But I'll let you do that. I'll try not to push you."  
Misty rewards me with a grateful, brilliant smile. A brief silence follows, which Misty quickly fills with a new line of conversation. "So where are we going?" she asks, leaning forward slightly as though that'll make it easier for her to see where we're headed. "Are you going to haul me to Viridian City for a cup of coffee?"  
I feign astonishment. "However did you guess?" I ask, trying on a mock Southern accent.  
Misty giggles and falls back in her seat. "You never fail to amaze me," she tells me. "You are an absolute geek."  
"Gee whiz," I respond, sarcastically. "That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day. Has anyone ever told you that you're absolutely charming?"  
She smirks. "All the time."  
  
Did you ever have a moment where you just can't wipe the smile off your face if you tried? And not the kind of smile where you're holding back laughter because some dumbass just fell flat on their face or something. I mean genuine smiling, where you're just really, really happy?  
I'm doing that now.   
I'm so happy I just want to bottle it or something. I'm so happy I'm coming up with cheesy ideas like bottling happiness.   
I can't remember the last time I had such a good time. I can't remember the last time I felt so . . . I don't know, happy. Free.   
Okay, that's a lie. I do remember. It was sometime before Ash and I broke up.  
Gary's so different to Ash though, that they could be a scientific study in contrasts. For such an egotistical guy, he prides himself on chivalry. I don't think Ash would know chivalry if it - or I - smacked him in the face.   
Maybe it's part of the ego thing, though. Maybe it's the whole airs-and-graces thing. I think more than anything it's probably his upbringing. You don't grow up to be a member of the most prestigious family in a small town and not possess level of inherent pretension.   
Still, no one could accuse Ash of being modest. I think that's why Gary and Ash clash the way they do. They're both fairly egotistical, but in such different ways. I think that Ash is so vocal in his belief in himself because he wants to be that person. Gary acts like he's better than everyone else is because he actually believes it.   
But cut past that egotistic layer, and there's a guy under there who is considerate, intelligent, sweet and witty.   
I guess that's why I don't want to go home yet.  
"I want a girl who uses a machete to cut through red tape," Gary recites clearly, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.   
I roll my eyes. "Puh-lease," I respond, making sure I sound sufficiently disdainful. "That's baby stuff. Short Skirt/Long Jacket by Cake."  
Gary's eyes narrow and he glances at me. "Not bad," he admits grudgingly, peering through his windscreen at the still traffic. "Your turn."  
I consider this thoughtfully, toying with the sleeve of my black cardigan, which is lying on my lap. "Okay," I say finally. "If you see my girlfriend cry, just keep walking, pass her by." I throw him the bitchiest look I can muster. "Want to give up?"  
He looks worried for a minute, and for that brief minute there's hope that I've won the game. Then that uncertainty drops to reveal pure smugness. "Who Sold Her Out by Eskimo Joe," he says dramatically. He mimes hitting a drum kit. "Ba-doom ching!"  
I sigh, fold my arms. "Fine. Your turn."  
Gary considers this seriously as he follows behind the yellow Lexus ahead of us. He takes his hands of the steering wheel to rub them together eagerly. "Oh, okay." He clears his throat. "Must have picked the stars out of the sky and left them in your eyes."  
I, the reigning queen of Name The Song Or Get A Punch In The Arm (a game which pretty much illustrates just how bored Brock and I used to get) am stumped. I know the line - I swear I do. I just can't seem to place it.  
"Misty is stumped!" Gary sings childishly, taking a right.   
"I am not!" I retort, equally childish. "I know it. I swear."  
Gary snorts. "Right," he responds, drawing out the word so it sounds like it's made up of two syllables instead of two.  
I scowl. "Shut up. I'm thinking." I drum my fingers slightly on the dash. "Must have picked the stars out of the sky and left them in your eyes," I mutter, running the words through my head.   
Gary sighs. "Come on!" he says impatiently. "Let me punch you already!"  
I look at him levelly. "Girl hitter," I say petulantly. Then I turn my head pointedly. "Must have picked the stars out of the sky . . . "  
I hear Gary laugh a little.   
"Ah ha!" I cry, as something triggers in my head. "Must have picked the stars out of the sky and left them in your eyes," I sing, trying to get to the chorus. It's pop, I can tell that much, so chances are they repeat the title thirty times in the chorus. "Boy, I'm thinking bout you every day and every night," I continue. I hum the rest of the verse, trying to get to the chorus and ignore the amused looks Gary is shooting my way. I look at him, making sure I look smug as I sing the chorus. "It's the way you that you make me crazy, feels so right that it's you now baby. And you got it all going on, with all the little things that will make me crazy. Just the way you make me feel, feel so alive for the first time baby. When you make me crazy, you got me baby."  
Gary grins. "That was beautiful, Misty, but this isn't the Sing The Chorus game. This is the Name The Song game."  
I manage to resist sticking my tongue out at him and flutter my lashes demurely. "Make Me Crazy by Scandal'Us," I tell him victoriously. I hit his arm slightly. "And shame on you for trying to trick me with a pop song."  
Gary chuckles and lifts his broad shoulders. "Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying."  
I laugh despite myself and shake my head. I look out the window and blink. "You better stop."  
Gary glances at me. "That's all you're gonna give me?"  
My brow furrows, then I laugh. "No, I mean that. You just drove past Ash's house."  
Gary stares at me, then looks out the windscreen. He sees that I'm right, slaps his forehead, curses under his breath and reverses back down the street, pulling to a stop out the front of Ash's house.   
"Wow," Gary says, allowing his hands to fall from the steering wheel to his lap. "Can't believe we're back here already. It's been like what? An hour? Two?"  
"Five," I inform him, my lips upturned in a small smile.  
He checks his watch then pushes a hand through his thick hair. "Whoa. Time flies."  
I laugh a little, aware that my cheeks are flushed and pull my thin black cardigan over my arms. "I had fun. Really," I say, not out of politeness, but out of honesty.   
"Yeah," Gary agrees, but his voice is a little lower, a little huskier than before. "I'm glad. I had a really good time too."  
Damn, his voice is melt-worthy. Why did I never notice that?  
We remain silent for a few seconds, and I break the silence. I hate silence. "Just in case you were wondering," I begin, drawing the words out, watching him for a reaction - any reaction. "I never kiss on the first date."  
Gary takes this in and nods slowly, understandingly. "Oh, sure. That's understandable."  
I nod mutely in agreement, trying to pretend that I'm not a little miffed that he's not arguing the point with me.   
I watch as a small, hard to read smirk curves Gary's lips. "Of course," he drawls, looking thoughtful. "If we're going to take 'date' as meaning going somewhere together for the purpose of entertainment, then we could say last night was a date, and considering that we've never done anything else together, last night would have been our first date, so tonight would be -"  
Gary doesn't get to finish his sentence though, because I lean forward and gently touch my lips to his. He remains still for a second, clearly surprised, but recovers quickly and kisses me back. His kiss is gentle, sweet and leaves me wanting more.   
I pull away, smile slightly then open the door. "Good night," I say softly.  
I'm already out of the car and about to shut the door behind me before Gary recovers enough from the shock to respond.   
"Yeah, sure," he says, just as quietly. "Good night."  
  
  



	3. Sun Comes Down

-Beyond My Hopes -  
  
A Pokemon Fanfiction by Kayley Laskitt (savetheempire@optusnet.com.au)  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon. I understand this comes as quite a shock as I am not in the entertainment industry, not residing in Japan and haven't even finished high school yet.   
Author's Notes: This is not my first fanfic, though it is the first Pokemon fanfic I've posted. I don't take well to flames, and I don't want to hear any bitching from anyone who isn't an egoshipper. Both the summary and this note warns you. If you don't like it, don't read it.   
In this fanfic, you should probably pretend that Pallet is not a nowheresville town. The characters are also older, though that should be fairly obvious.  
Comments and constructive criticism welcome.  
  
**  
Chapter Three: Sun Comes Down  
  
Okay. Here's an embarrassing fact. At one point, in my younger, jerkier, more chauvinistic years, I actually kept a list of all the girls I hooked up with. I ditched that particular habit at about seventeen, but it was a pretty long list by the time I got through.  
But you know what? Not one of those girls compares with Misty.  
In the couple of weeks we've been dating, I've learnt to appreciate Misty for many things. She's beautiful. She's smart. She's sweet. She's witty.   
But oh my God, the girl can kiss. I mean, she has a gift or something.  
I guess that's why we get a little carried away sometimes.  
I slip my hand under her sweater slightly, and I guess it's enough to surprise Misty because she pulls away. "Whoa, easy tiger," she breathes, sitting back in her seat. I think we spend more time in my car than anywhere else sometimes. "I think we need to slow down."  
I sit back too, and smooth down my mussed hair. "Why?" I ask.   
Misty turns to face me, her blue-green eyes narrowed, looking like she's all too ready to smack me in the face given half the chance. "Why?" she echoes, in disbelief. "You jerk. How does 'because I said so' work for you?"  
I realise how what I just said sounded, and I sigh. "No, Mist, I didn't mean it like that," I assure her, itching to touch her but knowing I better explain myself before I do. "I didn't mean it like you need to explain yourself if you want to slow down. You know me better than that." Her face softens slightly. "It's just that . . . I don't know, we've been further than this. Why this sudden barrier?"  
Misty rolls her eyes, but thankfully she doesn't look angry anymore. She gestures to the fact that we're in my car, in a street in the middle of Pallet. "Uh, hello? Public place. People might see us."  
The words are general, but I get straight away what she's not saying. I sit back even further in my seat, and this time I'm scowling. "Right. People like Ash because you haven't told him yet."  
Misty takes my hand and rubs her thumb over my hand. She knows I love that. "Come on," she says softly. "You said you weren't going to push me."  
I snort in disbelief and stare out the windscreen, my jaw set. "Yeah, Misty. I said I wasn't going to push you like three weeks ago."  
She lifts her chin and gets that mildly haughty look on her face that never fails to boil me. "I wasn't aware I was working on a schedule," she says airily.  
Okay, she's in one of those I'm-right zones. That means I have to choose my words carefully if I want to keep all my limbs.  
"Misty," I begin calmly but firmly. "I love spending time with you. You know that. But I meant what I said a couple of weeks ago. I can't date you if you don't tell Ash."  
Misty exhales, causing her hair to flutter slightly. She leans back against the door, as though she's trying to sit as far from me as possible. "Why do we have to make this about other people?" she demands irritably, twirling a beaded bracelet around her wrist. "Why can't this just be about us?"  
Oh, she's definitely being stubborn. This isn't going to be easy to handle.  
What is it that my grandfather always says about honesty and best policies?  
"Because," I respond, keeping my voice flat the way I do when I'm about to do the sharing-of-feelings thing I've never been good at. "I don't want to be your dirty little secret. And that's exactly what I am if you can't tell people about us."  
I see her lashes flutter uncertainly as she looks down at her lap, tracing patterns on the leg of her fitted camel pants. She stays silent for a few anxious minutes, then she lifts her head. Every trace of irritation from before has disappeared, replaced by apology. "I'm sorry," she says sincerely, which I know is hard for her, because she hates apologizing. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that. And even though it's hard for me to tell Ash, I know it's just as hard for you to sit by and wonder why I haven't."  
Funny how she knows me so well already.  
I rest a hand on her knee, and she places hers on top of mine. "So you'll tell him?" I ask.  
Misty nods, a lock of shiny red-gold hair falling across her cheek. "I will," she responds. "As long as you never ask me 'why' again."  
"Deal," I agree.  
Her face lights up then, which is a sight I wish I could tape. She lifts my hand and gently presses her lips to it, which sounds a hell of a lot more harmless than it feels.   
"Deal," she echoes softly, lifting one corner of her mouth in a smile. She lets go of my hand, and it immediately flies to the gear stick.   
I throw her brazen, mischievous grin. "I'm glad you're going to tell Ash . . . but first I think we need to get out of here."  
Misty laughs melodically and sits back, reaching out to touch my knee. "Deal."  
  
I don't see Ash till the following morning. Gary dropped me off at like 2am, and Ash was either asleep or not home. Either way, I figured it wasn't the best time to bring it up.  
I wake up at about ten, which is pretty late by Ash's standards, which is why it surprises me to find him up, dressed and finishing off breakfast.  
"Hey," I say nonchalantly as I walk into the kitchen. I cross the tiles to the fridge and pull it open, studying the contents. There's not much - it's Saturday, the day Delia usually goes shopping, which is subsequently the day we usually run out of food.  
Ash swallows a mouthful of Frosties and nods. "Morning," he greets me, sounding abnormally cheerful. I wonder if the abnormal cheerfulness and early wake-up are connected at all.  
I pull a bottle of juice from the fridge, slam it shut and grab an apple from the ceramic bowl on the counter. An apple and juice for breakfast. Better than nothing, I guess.  
Ash eyes my breakfast. "There's still Frosties left," he offers, angling his head towards the pantry.   
I sit down and offer an ironic smile. "As tempting as it sounds to rot my teeth, I think I'll stick with the apple."  
Ash shakes his head. "Kids these days. Don't understand the value of processed food."  
I laugh, and twist the lid off my juice.   
It's tempting - and I mean really tempting - to conveniently forget mine and Gary's discussion of yesterday and just have a chat with Ash, like the old times. But I know I've put it off for long enough.  
I swallow some orange-passionfruit juice, cough slightly and wipe my palms on the knees of my light blue cords. "Where's your mom?" I ask, not as a procrastination technique but out of genuine curiosity.   
"Professor Oak's, I think," Ash informs me, refilling his milk glass. He looks at me over the carton, as though he's expecting me to make some comment on the issue.   
I push my juice and uneaten apple away, and force a smile. "Good. Because I kind of need to talk to you about something."  
I kind of need to talk to you about something? Could I vague that up anymore?  
Ash's smooth brow furrows slightly, and he sets his glass down on the table. "And this something is something you can't talk about in front of my mom?"  
I roll my shoulders back in an attempt to relax. "I'd rather not."  
Ash looks part curious, part concerned. "Okay. What's up?"  
I take a deep breath, not wanting to screw this up. I mean, this is some serious stuff going on here. And I've spent a lot of time thinking of how I want to say this.  
"Did you watch that movie on cable last month?" I ask, my words coming out too quickly. "You know, the one with the guy and his chick friend and the other guy and his cousin? And the first guy liked the other guy's cousin and the other guy liked the other guy's friend? And so they tried to set each other up with the girls because they both thought the other guy was just so right for each girl, only they ended falling for the wrong people, but they turned out to be the right people? And it had a whole 'right kind of wrong' theme going for it, because even if you fall for someone who everyone else would say is the wrong person, it's okay as long as you think it's the right person . . . " I trail off, exhausted. "Do you know where I'm going with this?"  
Ash nods slowly, looking down at the yellow tablecloth. "Uh, yeah." He looks up, and shifts, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I thought you might bring this up. How come you never said anything before?"  
God, he's taking this well. I shrug. "I guess I was just . . . I don't know, scared. Telling you would have made it all the more real, you know?"  
Ash rakes a hand through his hair, still toying with the edge of the tablecloth. He drops the tablecloth and reaches across the table to touch my hand. "I'm sorry."  
I eye him oddly. I mean, out of all the reactions I expected that wasn't one of them. "Why are you apologizing?" I ask, frowning.  
Ash looks even more uncomfortable, if that's possible. I can tell his left leg is bouncing up and down slightly from nerves. "For keeping secrets," he responds, his voice quiet and directed to his Vans. "I really should have told you that I was seeing May."  
Secrets. Told. Seeing. May.  
Okay, way too much information to deal with. I react in the only way possible.  
"You're what?" I cry, jumping up from my seat like someone just stuck a pin into me.   
Ash jumps up from his seat too, shoving back his chair so quickly that it teeters precariously before settling itself back down. "What do you mean 'you're what'?" Ash demands, looking beyond confused. "You knew . . . didn't you?"  
"How would I know?" I snap, throwing my arms in the air exasperatedly. I take a few steps away, feeling mildly suffocated. "Do I look like a goddamn mind reader?"  
Ash rubs his hands over his face the way he always does when he's about to lose it. "Then what the hell were you talking about?"  
Oh, no. He's not going to turn this whole thing around on me. "My god, Ash! How is it possible I didn't know about this?"  
Ash strides forward and grabs my shoulders, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "Misty!" he says sharply. "Forget that! What the hell were you talking about?"  
I pull away and walk towards the counter, leaning back against it. "I had no idea you were seeing May," I say acidly. "I was planning to tell you that I've been seeing Gary."  
I don't realise till after I've said it what exactly I just said. Ash's face turned that shade of white he turns when he's angry. Really angry.   
I've only seen that a couple of times. The last time was when we broke up.  
"You're what?" Ash demands, his voice rising.   
"You heard me!" I respond, my voice rising to match his. "You got a problem with that?"  
I can see Ash's fist clench. He's really pissed off. "Yes," he said, jaw clenched. "I have a problem with that." He jabs a finger at me. "I don't want you dating that guy!"  
I place my hands on my hips and lift my chin. "Well, guess what, Ash? It's not your decision."  
Ash stares at me for a few tense seconds before wrenching his eyes from mine. He storms to the telephone stand and snatches his keys up.  
A knot of dread forms in my stomach. "Where are you going?" I ask hesitantly.  
Ash turns to glare at me, dangling his keys from his thumb. "I'm going to the Oak's. If you won't listen to me, I'll make Gary listen."  
  
I watch as May pours herself a glass of water and takes a sip. As she does, she lifts her eyes to look at me. I cross my eyes and stick my tongue out at her, so only she will notice. And she does. She tries not to laugh and chokes.  
Delia, seated beside May, turns concerned eyes towards her and pats her on the back. "Are you okay, May?" she asks, brow furrowed.  
May sits her glass down, throws me a glare and concentrates on regulating her breathing. She coughs, tears springing in the corner of her eyes.   
"I'm fine," she manages between coughs.   
My grandfather, who is seated on the other side of May looks as concerned as Delia. "Are you sure, May? You've gone all red."  
May gives me an absolute death look and I try not to laugh. The girl is obsessed with her appearance.  
May pushes back her chair, the rubber-tipped legs grating along the wooden decking. "Excuse me," she says demurely, standing up and smoothing the front of her tartan skirt. "I think I'll go inside for a minute." I watch as she walks towards the glass sliding doors. Once inside, her composed, demure expression changes completely, and she makes a face at me through the glass.   
I hold back a laugh and look down at the table.  
Delia and my grandfather carry on their little love-fest all around me and I tune out. In the distance, I hear a car door slam, followed by footsteps. They sound pretty close, actually. Close as the driveway even.   
"Ash, wait!"   
It's barely audible, but I swear it's Misty's voice. Maybe I'm paranoid, but as her boyfriend, it's probably my duty to check, right?  
Oh, wow. Boyfriend. You know, I haven't actually said that before.  
I excuse myself, go into the house and pull open the front door in time to see Ash about to pound down the door and Misty standing behind him, arms folded over her chest protectively.  
"Gary," Ash greets me through clenched teeth.  
"Ash," I return, calmly.  
Ash pushes past me into the house and Misty follows. She looks so pretty, her cheeks all pink from the cold and bundled up in a white puffy coat. "Hey," she greets me with a smile.   
"Hey," I respond, with that goofy smile I get around her.  
Ash shuts the front door a little forcefully and tries to stare me down. "We need to talk," he tells me sharply.   
I glance at Misty. "What's going on?"  
She shrugs. "I told him."  
Ohh . . . she actually did it. I glance at Ash. And he's really, really pissed.  
"I'm gonna say this once," Ash snaps, stabbing a finger at me. "You are not dating Misty."  
I pretend to consider his words. "That's funny, because I could have sworn I was." I look at Misty. "Did you think that, Misty?"  
She nods weakly, looking like can think of a million places she'd rather be than here. I feel a twinge of something, and I resist the urge to step closer to her or hug her or something.   
"I want you to stay away from her," Ash hisses, looking ready to seriously invade my personal space. "I know what you're doing, and I want you to leave her alone."  
I feel my anger rise despite my attempts to quell it. I push my hair out of my face and glare at Ash. "What the hell would you know? You don't know a damn thing about Misty and me so don't think you have any right to tell me what to do."  
Before Ash has a chance to respond, I hear the familiar sound of May's boots clicking against the tiled floor. Sure enough, she rounds the corner, pulling her fingers through her unnaturally blonde hair. I think the blonde looks tacky on her, but trying telling her that.   
"What's going on?" she asks. "I can hear you . . ." She trails off upon seeing Ash and Misty. Her lips curve into a smile. "Ash."  
"May," Ash returns, copying her tone. They smile at each other for a second, which makes me uncomfortable. I've seen that smile. It's the same one I give Misty.  
May turns to me, head angled, one ridiculously large gold hoop earring brushing her shoulder. "What's going on?"  
Ash answers for me. "Did you have any idea Gary and Misty are dating?"  
May laughs. "No, they're not." She looks at me, her delicate brow furrowed. "Are you?" I shrug helplessly and May's head falls back. "Christ, Gary!" she exclaims, irritably. "You're dating her?"  
I can't help notice the emphasis she applies to the word 'her'. Apparently, Misty doesn't miss it either.   
"Do you have a problem with that?" Misty demands sharply, stepping forward and managing to look menacing despite the white puffy coat and bouncy ponytail.   
May rolls her dark eyes. "Oh, you're real classy," she says sarcastically. She turns her attention back to me, her dark eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you thinking? And how the hell is it possible that I didn't know about this?"  
It's Misty's turn to roll her eyes. "Oh, and I suppose the word 'hell' suddenly became all class, did it?" she asks dryly.  
Oh, great. Both Misty and May in uber-bitch mode is just what I need right now.  
May tossed her meticulously tousled locks over her thin shoulders. "I don't recall pushing your buzzer, Opinion Girl," May states loftily.  
Misty steps closer, and I'm a little worried she's gonna take her on right here, right now. "Don't you even try pulling that holier-than-thou crap on me," she spits. "You're such a hypocrite."  
May flushes at the word 'hypocrite' and throws a wide-eyed look at Ash. Misty looks triumphant and a knot of dread forms in my stomach. I have a feeling I know what this means, but I have to ask.  
"Hypocrite?" I echo, staring hard at Misty. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
My triumph is put on pause as Gary stares at me, looking a little sick, waiting for my response. His sister may be a first-class bitch but he loves her and I know he isn't going to like what I have to say.  
"You didn't know?" I ask, putting on the bitchy act for May's benefit. I can practically feel her radiating annoyance. "Ash has been dating your sister."  
"What?" The word comes out sharply, like the snap of a dry stick, and I start a little. I can't recall ever hearing Gary so angry before. "May, is this true?"  
May lifts her chin, toying with her too-styled, too-blonde hair. "What do you care?" she asks.   
Gary's jaw tightens, to the point where I can almost see the muscles ticking. "I care a lot," he says with clenched teeth. "I care a damn lot. I don't want you going anywhere near him."  
"And what are you going to do about it, Oak?" Ash's voice is filled with as much anger as Gary's, and I fold my arms tightly, suddenly cold.   
Gary moves forward, looking like he would give anything to deck Ash. "You stay out of this, Ketchum!" Gary barks.   
Ash moves forward too, the space between him and Gary getting smaller and smaller. "Why the hell should I?" Ash demands, his voice rising. "It's my life you're trying to dictate here!"  
May looks at me sideways, her expression cool, composed. "Are you happy?" she asks, the harshness in her voice unmistakable. "Were you aiming for this?"  
"Were you?" I retort. May annoys the hell out of me sometimes. Maybe because she reminds me of my sisters. "Well, I for one hope that things work out for you and Ash. I hope you enjoy coming second to Pokemon."  
May smirks, and turns fully to face me. "Did you ever consider, Misty, that it was only you that Ash put second? And not all girls?"  
Oh, that stings. That really hit way too close to home for my liking.   
I smile a saccharine smile at May. "Well, I don't know. Maybe you should tell me." I pause, lowering my voice slightly. "You're the . . . expert . . . with guys here, aren't you?"  
It's kind of scary the way May's face darkens so noticeably, so quickly. She drops her little airs and graces and glares at me downright viciously. "What the hell are you trying to say?" she demands.   
I lift my hands in the air in a gesture of hopelessness, and pause, playing my upper hand. "I'm not saying anything. Your track record says it all for you."  
Her face strips of color, and she turns an odd shade of pale gray. It's strange to see such a confident, bitchy girl crumble like that. I guess no one likes to hear that kind of thing about themselves.   
May doesn't get a chance to respond, though. She's interrupted by Gary tearing into Ash.  
"You were born scum, Ketchum!" Gary bites out angrily. "You were born into scum, and you'll die as scum and I don't care how many Pokemon you catch or how many battles you win! You don't deserve to even come within a ten-mile radius of my sister, let alone talk to her!"  
Ash throws the first punch, a left-hook that catches Gary right off guard. But Gary retaliates twice as hard, and pretty soon the two guys are practically trying to kill each other.  
May moves closer to me, glaring. "See what you've done?" she cries angrily.  
"Me?" I ask, indignantly. "You had just as much to do with this as I did. Probably more so - at least I actually care for your brother. At least I'm not toying with him like you are with Ash! Like you've done with - oh, I don't know, every guy in Pallet?"  
I admit, I'm surprised when May pounces at me and slaps me clear across the face. Who knew a girl who looks like a Barbie could pack such a slap?  
"I am not a slut!" she cries, sounding more emotional than I can recall. Hit a little close to home, have I?  
I push her off me, and she stumbles in her boots. "Who said you were?" I snap, a little touchy. I'm not used to people slapping me. "I just said you had a track record."  
May brushes at the front of her sweater, shaking visibly. "I know what that means," she hisses. "Just because you never said the word 'slut' doesn't mean anything. At least I can get a guy, huh, Misty? At least I have more than two credits up my sleeve!"  
I feel my cheeks heat up at that. I guess Ash must have told her that he was the first guy I ever went out with. Jerk.  
"Oh, that's something to be really proud of," I say sarcastically.   
May stares at me, but I can see tears in the corner of her eyes. "Can you do better?" she asks nastily, but I can tell the nastiness is a cover.  
"Yeah, well, at least guys don't screw me over and then go and laugh about it with all their friends!" I shoot back. "At least I have a little self respect!"  
May raises her hand to slap me again, and I catch her wrist. It surprises her, and she stares at me, stunned, for a few seconds. I push her away as hard as I can and she very nearly falls over.   
But before May can come at me or do anything, a voice booms through the foyer. It's loud, authoritative and stops all four of us in our tracks.   
Professor Oak rounds the corner, Delia at his heels. "What the hell is going on here?"  
  
I stop, still gripping onto the collar of Ash's shirt. My arm had been pulled back, ready to smack him in the face when my grandfather came in. I let my arm drop to my side, surprised.   
"You better have a damn good explanation," my grandfather continues, and I let go of Ash's collar. He steps back and adjusts his shirt. Like that'll help. Like the blood trickling from his lip and the emerging bruises aren't tell tale enough.   
I take the opportunity to glance at Misty and May. May is standing on one side of the foyer, arms folded protectively as she glares hatefully at Misty. Misty is sporting a red cheek and looks pretty pissed off.   
Ash straightens, like he's about to explain, but Delia jabs a finger at her son. "Quiet," she orders sharply. "All of you, in the living room now."  
I've never heard Delia speak with such authority. It's kind of scary.  
The four of us file into the living room and sit down on the four seater. Delia and grandfather each take an armchair. Misty sits at one end of the couch, Ash at the other. Myself and May are stuck between them. I can't remember the last time I've been in such an awkward situation.  
"Who wants to start?" my grandfather asks, and even though he's angry, I can hear something else in his voice I rarely hear. Disappointment.   
We remain sullenly silent for a few seconds. Then Misty speaks up. "May and Ash are dating," she informs them flatly.  
May scowls. "Yeah, well so what? So are Gary and Misty."  
Misty leans over me to look at May. "Why don't you shut that damn mouth of yours for once?"  
"Why don't you?" May responds irritably.   
"Hey!" Delia holds up her hands and looks from Misty to May. "Would you two calm down? Can we discuss this rationally?"  
I snort. That's a joke. Ash and I are battered and bruised, May's still reeling from whatever Misty said to her and Misty will be lucky to not have a bruise on her cheek. The word 'rational' does not apply to this situation.   
"I want to know what happened, and why," Delia states, oddly calm.  
Misty shifts. I think she's gearing up to tell Delia. When she rests a hand on my knee, I'm sure of it. "Do I have to spell it out?" she asks, rhetorically.  
My grandfather responds to that one, running a hand over his thinning hair. "No, I guess not," he agrees. He leans forward, fixing me with an intense stare. "Do you care to tell your side of the story?"  
I push back my hair, and am mildly surprised to find blood near my hairline. "I just found out Ash and May have been dating," I say wearily. "And I'm not happy with that."  
May falls back against the couch and sighs. "I'm not a little girl any more, Gary," she reminds me.   
I close my eyes and exhale. "I know that," I hiss. "But you don't exactly have a stellar record. And I don't trust Ash as far as I can throw him."  
Ash, beside May, snorts. "Oh, that's rich," he mutters.  
I feel my face flush and I glare at Ash, blaming him for it. "You got something to say, Ketchum, you better come right out and say it," I warn.  
Ash meets my gaze, not shying away in the slightest. "I'll say it," he agrees. "You want to talk about less than stellar track records? Let's discuss all the girls you've been through over the years. Or do we not have time for that?"  
My jaw clenches. "Shut up."  
"Why?" Ash asks. "Don't want Misty to know how many girls you've used? Don't want her to know how many girls you've sweet-talked and dated till you got what you want out of them?" His voice drops ominously. "I want you to stay the hell away from her because I know what you're like, Oak," he tells me. "And you and I both know that once you get what you want out of Misty, you'll ditch her as fast as you can."  
I jump up from my seat, glaring down at Ash, hating the way my clenched fist is shaking. I hate the way he's assuming these things and I hate the way Misty could be believing him. "I would never do that to Misty," I say tightly, my jaw clenched as tight as my fist.  
Ash stands too, to look me straight in the eye. "Why not?' he asks, sounding indulgent, like the way an adult would address a child. "Why is Misty so different?"  
I look down at Misty, whose eyes are directed at the carpet. Even from here I can tell that her lower lip is probably shaking. I glance up again at Ash, who's fixed me with a triumphant eye. My anger rises.   
"Because I love her!" My words come out short, harsh. "So screw you Ash, because you don't know a damn thing!"  
Ash looks shocked, and I realise what I've just said. I can feel five sets of eyes burning into me and it's enough to make me uncomfortable.  
"Forget it," I mumble, stepping around everyone and heading for the door. "Just forget it."  
  
Because I love her.  
The words repeat in my mind as I pick at the fabric of the arm of the chair, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Judging by the suddenly cold, empty space beside me and the complete absence of any sound, it happened.   
He loves me.   
He loves me and now because of Ash, he's gone.  
I stand up and step over May to where Ash is still standing. Then I shove him in the chest, hard enough to make him brace himself against the couch.   
"You jerk!" I snap, backing him up against the wall and all too ready to strike out. "Do you see what you just did?"  
Ash hits the wall and his eyes widen with panic. "Misty, I -"  
"Save it!" I hold up a warning finger and he shuts up. "Right now, I have to go find Gary. But don't think I won't be kicking your ass when I get back."  
Then I turn and storm out of the room. I can almost hear Ash breathe a sigh of relief.  
I pull open the heavy front door in time to see Gary getting into his car. He sees me and casts his eyes away, looking sorrowful. I run after him, not bothering to close the door.   
"Gary, wait!"  
He hears me, pretends not to and gets in the car.  
"Gary!"  
He shuts the door.  
I get to the car before he has the chance to start the ignition and pull the door open. "Gary, just stop for a second," I beg. "Please."  
Gary pauses, sighs, then slides out of the car. "Misty, let it go," he says, sounding more tired than he deserves to be.  
"No." I say it calmly, determinedly, and he looks at me, surprised. I lay a hand on his arm, feeling his warmth through his shirt. "Did you mean what you said in there?"  
Gary sighs and lifts his broad shoulders half-heartedly. He looks skyward. "What does it matter?" he asks flatly.   
I move closer, staring up at his chiseled, perfect features, suddenly so closed off. "How can you say that?" I ask, honestly. "How can you say it doesn't matter?"  
He looks down at me, obviously struggling to keep his eyes neutral. "Because it doesn't. Like you'll care after what Ash said about me."  
Ohh . . . okay, I get it. I gaze up at Gary. "You think that because Ash said a whole lot of things about your reputation, that I won't care?"  
He shrugs, which, for Gary, is as good as a nod. His jaw clenches and unclenches, and I blink, stunned. Is it possible that Gary is going to cry?  
"You were an absolute sleaze," I tell him.  
He nods.  
"You used and abused a different girl every day."  
He nods morosely.  
"You treated women like they existed solely for your own entertainment."  
He nods barely, his eyes cast down.   
I laugh a little, and touch his chin, making him look up. "And I don't care," I tell him honestly, saying each word slowly so there's no mistake. "I'm not going to judge you on how you treated other girls. I'm going to judge you on how you've treated me." I smile at the way his dark eyes light up a little at my words. "And you've treated me with nothing but care and respect."  
He smiles at me with liquid eyes and rests a hand on my hip. "I meant what I said in there," he says softly, so soft I almost wonder whether I heard right.  
"Really?" I say, barely audible.  
Gary nods. "I love spending time with you. I love the way your eyes get darker as the night sets in. I love the way you tell it like it is. I love the way you make me smile for no reason." He grins. "And I was thinking about this all, and I realised maybe I love you."  
I lift an eyebrow, touched by his words but not wanting to show it. "Maybe?" I echo teasingly.  
He returns the grin, placing his other hand on my other hip and pulling me towards him. "Maybe more than maybe," he concedes. He turns serious suddenly, his eyes going all dark and somber. I love it when they do that. "What about you?"  
Wow. Loaded question.  
I think about it before saying anything. "I love being with you and I love the way you make me feel. But we've only been dating for three weeks and a couple of weeks before that I was with Ash. So I'm taking my time. But," I say, with a small smile. "If this isn't love, it's very close."  
"Thank You by The Whitlams," Gary says without skipping a beat, grinning. "You've got to get up pretty early in the morning to beat me at that game."  
I punch him in the arm lightly. "There'll be plenty of time for getting up early in the morning later."  
Gary raises his eyebrows suggestively and I laugh. Then I rest my head against his chest and sober. "It isn't going to be easy, you know," I say seriously. "There'll be people in our way."  
Gary idly runs a hand up and down my back. "So we'll run them over with my car," he says lightly. "No sweat."  
I laugh a little, but I'm still not at ease. And I guess Gary can tell because he pulls me away so he can look me in the eye.   
"Hey," he says softly. "We'll make it work."  
Warmed by this, I wrap my arms around his neck and just revel in his presence. There's a sense of calm that was never there with Ash.  
As Gary holds me, I spy Ash watching us from the house over Gary's shoulder. I almost pull away, but then Ash smiles. It's hardly noticeable, but it's there.   
He understands.  
I smile back, to show him that I understand too.   
Maybe Gary and Ash will never be best friends again, just like May and I will probably never be good friends. But the two most important guys in my life are the two most important guys in May's life and because of that we're all irrevocably linked.   
It won't be easy. But I believe Gary.  
We'll make it work.   
I know we will.  
  



End file.
